Do You Solemnly Swear
by timewalker05
Summary: It's Kate Beckett's worst nightmare come true. The DA wants Castle to testify at a murder trial. And the cross-examination doesn't go exactly as planned.  By popular request, NOW UPDATED WITH A SECOND CHAPTER
1. Chapter 1

DO YOU SOLEMNLY SWEAR…

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Detective Beckett, it's the only way."

"It's _not_ the only way. We have lots of evidence. We have _boxes_ full of evidence. Bank records. Airline tickets. Computer printouts."

"Evidence of the embezzlement, yes. That's not the problem. For the murder, you've got no fingerprints, no ballistics, no DNA evidence… Ever since _CSI_, the juries expect that in every case you're going to put Gary Sinise on the stand and he's going to tie the defendant to the case with a mountain of scientific evidence."

"I hate that show."

"Tell me about it."

"That and _Law and Order_."

"I know. My juries get pissed now if I can't present the entire case in half an hour."

Detective Kate Beckett sighed and slumped back in her chair. Assistant District Attorney Erin Miller leaned on the table and spread her hands. "I don't see the problem," she said. "We've got a confession. Why don't you want to use it?"

Beckett sighed again and looked at the ADA. "_We_ don't have a confession. _Rick Castle_ has a confession. You want to put Rick Castle on the stand. In front of a jury. As the center of your case."

Miller shrugged. "Yeah. What's the problem?"

"You haven't met Rick Castle, have you?"

That's when the ADA got _the look_. Beckett was used to _the look_ by now. Whenever she mentioned Rick Castle to just about any single woman in the city between the ages of 18 and 80, she invariably got _the look_. They would think about his "Most Eligible Bachelor" spread in the _New York Ledger_. Or his picture on the book jacket of _Heat Wave_ and their eyes would go a little unfocused and they would get that little dreamy look and sigh just a little.

"No," the ADA admitted. "I haven't had the pleasure."

"Oh, it's no pleasure, believe me."

"You don't think he'll make a good witness?"

"Rick Castle is like an eight-year-old after a case of Red Bull. He is completely incapable of taking anything seriously. There has to be another way."

The ADA closed the file. "Do you want this guy to walk, Detective?"

Beckett sighed and slumped back in her chair again. "No."

"Then we have to put Rick Castle on the stand. There's no other way. Bring him to my office. I'll interview him and see what kind of witness he'll make." Miller stood and picked up the file. "How's tomorrow? You think that'll be a problem?"

"No," Beckett admitted.

* * *

Beckett stood outside his door, staring at the expensive wood. She raised her hand to knock, then let it drop.

'Come on, Kate,' she thought. 'It's not like you're here to ask him to the prom.'

She balled her hand tightly into a fist and was just about to raise it when the door suddenly flew open. Martha Rogers, Castle's mother, stepped back, startled.

"Why, Detective Beckett! This is a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in."

Martha stepped aside to let Beckett into the loft. "I'm sorry I can't stay," she said. "I've got a rehearsal. That's the problem with these off-Broadway productions. You just get your part down and then they want to 'tweak it.'" She turned and yelled into the apartment. "Richard! Detective Beckett's here." Martha pulled her coat closed and turned back to Beckett. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm sure he'll be out in a minute." She turned and yelled again, "Richard! I'm leaving." And then Hurricane Martha, as Castle called her, was gone.

Beckett stepped into the apartment and looked around as she unbuttoned her coat and dropped it on a chair. It was always a little intimidating being here in the Castle castle. Castle didn't exactly flaunt his wealth. Sometimes Kate wondered if he even realized just how much wealthier he was than the average New Yorker. For instance, she knew that the painting over the stairs was worth more than her yearly salary.

"Beckett!" Castle said, startled as he stepped into the living room. He was naked from the waist up, his hair was wet, and he was rubbing at his hair with a towel.

Beckett couldn't help but let her eyes drift down to his rather impressive abs.

"I will see you on Thursday, Ricky," said the tall, blonde and impossibly well-toned woman with a slight Swedish accent who followed Castle into the living room.

"Oh!" Castle said, startled again, looking from Beckett to the woman and then back to Beckett.

"Oh, sorry, I'm interrupting something," Beckett said, fighting the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was _not_ jealous of this blonde bimbo. It's not like she didn't know that Castle had all the morals of an alley cat, ready to jump anything in a skirt. Although she thought he had toned that down considerably of late.

She really _wasn't_ jealous.

She picked up her coat and fumbled to pull it on as quickly as she could.

"No!" Castle said, just a little too forcefully.

The woman stepped around Castle and eyed Beckett up and down. "Ricky," she said in that damnably sultry accent, "you have not introduced me to your friend."

"Ah, Detective Kate Beckett, this is Ingrid, my personal trainer and masseuse. Ingrid, this is Detective Beckett."

"Ah," Ingrid said, stepping closer to Beckett. Too close. It was true that living in New York City you acquired a much less developed sense of personal space, but this woman was making Beckett nervous.

"You are the Nikki Heat that Ricky talks on and on about. You look tense. Maybe sometime I could do something about that."

"No, really, I'm fine," Beckett said, taking an involuntary step back. Damn it, she thought. She could go toe to toe with a mob boss, but once she got into Castle's world, she turned into an awkward teenager again.

"Well, Ricky has my number if you change your mind," Ingrid said, brushing intentionally up against Beckett as she walked past her toward the door. "See you Thursday, Ricky."

Once she was gone, Castle grinned. "Well, well. I think Ingrid likes you."

"Was she just…" Beckett asked, flustered. "Was she just coming on to me?"

"Well," Castle said. "Ingrid has very discriminating tastes."

"But she… I thought you…"

Castle's grin got wider.

"Would you put on some clothes!" Beckett finally snapped.

"What's going on?" Beckett looked up to see Castle's daughter, Alexis, standing at the top of the stairs, frowning.

"It seems Ingrid has a thing for Detective Beckett here," Castle chuckled.

"Dad," Alexis said, shaking her head. "Ingrid has a thing for _everybody_. Honestly, I don't know why you use her."

"Really strong hands," Castle replied.

Alexis shook her head as she walked down the stairs. "Detective, it's nice to see you." She turned to her father. "Dad, go get dressed!"

Castle shrugged and walked back out of the living room.

Alexis stepped off the stairs and offered her hand to Beckett.

"I've told you, Alexis," Beckett said. "When we're not down at the station, you can call me 'Kate.'"

"Sorry, Kate," Alexis said. "Come to take my father away to some grisly murder scene?"

"No, actually," Beckett said. "The ADA… the Assistant District Attorney... wants your father to testify at an upcoming murder trial."

"Dad? Testify? In court? She hasn't met him, has she?"

Beckett sighed and shook her head. "No. But he'll be fine… won't he?"

Alexis stepped into the kitchen and pulled a flavored water out of the refrigerator. She held one up to Beckett, who shook her head 'no.' "Oh, Dad can be serious, when he needs to be. Usually. And he's testified before."

"He has?" Beckett asked, surprised.

"Oh, of course," Alexis said. "Pretty much every author who has a best-selling book has been sued at least once by someone who thinks their work has been viciously and deliberately plagiarized." She rolled her eyes. "Their book didn't sell more than a thousand copies but of course _this_ book wouldn't have reached the New York Time Best Seller List without stealing from _theirs_."

"Really?" Beckett said. "I had no idea."

"Are you ladies talking about me again?" Castle asked, walking back into the living room wearing a faded New York Yankees t-shirt.

"Contrary to popular belief, Castle," Beckett said. "Not every conversation is about you."

"But this one was," Castle said, sidling up next to Alexis and sneering at her beverage choice. He turned and pulled a Dr. Brown's Crème Soda out of the fridge.

"They want you to testify at a murder trial," Alexis said.

Castle spun around. "Really? A murder trial? That is _so cool_."

"Castle," Beckett said. "This isn't some game. This is serious."

Castle waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Ooh. I need a new suit. I'm thinking pinstripes. Something distinguished."

"Castle!" Beckett said sharply.

Alexis put a hand on each side of Castle's face. "Dad! Focus!"

"Yes, sensei," Castle said. He turned to Beckett. "Which case?"

"The Giardino case."

"That little weasely guy who was embezzling from his company?" Castle asked.

"Yeah," Beckett said. "And then shot the auditor who found out about it and took you hostage when you _wouldn't wait in the car_."

"Oh, come on," Castle said. "You've watched _Chuck_. The hero never waits in the car."

"Castle," Beckett said. "How many times have I told you: You're not the hero. You're an observer."

"Well, officially I'm a consultant. You said so yourself. Multiple times."

"Because I can't introduce you as 'My annoying tag along writer monkey.'"

"You know," Alexis said. "As fascinating as this conversation is, I have homework. Kate, it's nice to see you."

Beckett smiled at her. "You, too, Alexis. Are we still on for next Tuesday?"

Alexis nodded her head. "Yep." She kissed her father on the cheek and then bounced up the stairs in that way that only teenaged girls can.

"Next Tuesday?" Castle asked. "What's next Tuesday?"

"We're going shopping," Beckett said. "She needs a dress for the spring formal."

"But I've always taken Alexis dress shopping," Castle whined. "I helped her pick out her dress for the prom."

"Her _grandmother_ helped her pick out her dress for the prom," Beckett corrected. "You told her everything she tried on looked beautiful."

"Well it did," Castle said. "She got my good looks."

Beckett snorted derisively. "She wanted a woman's opinion and she obviously thinks I have good taste, despite the fact that I hang out with you."

"Oh! You wound me!" Castle said, clutching at his heart dramatically. Then he grinned and said, "So tell me more about this trial. What's the defense attorney like? Some kind of…" he waved his hands back and forth… "Atticus Finch?"

"Hardly," Beckett said. "We seized all of Giardino's accounts, so he has a public defender. But a good one. Barry White."

"Ooh! I love his voice. Great seduction music."

Beckett rolled her eyes. Clearly, sometime, somewhere, she had done something horrible for karma to smack her in the head like this.

* * *

"How do I look?" Castle asked. He was fidgeting in his new, custom tailored, dark grey pin-stripe suit. "Do I look honest? Trustworthy? Believable?"

"Only to those who don't know you," Martha said.

"You look great, Dad," Alexis said, straightening his tie. "Now remember what Beckett said. It might be awhile before they call you, and they've invoked The Rule, so you'll have to stay outside the courtroom until you testify."

"You mean I can't watch?" Castle whined.

"He wasn't listening," Martha said. "Not that that's all that surprising. Now hurry up. You're going to be late."

"The car's waiting out front," Alexis said.

"I thought Beckett would drive me," Castle said.

"Dad, she explained all that," Alexis said. "You're a witness in this case. You can't be hanging around with Detective Beckett during the trial."

"I can't believe they won't let me watch," he whined again.

"Here," Alexis said, handing him his iPod. "You can play Bejewelled in the witness room while you're waiting. I checked."

"Ah, daughter. You're so good to me. And I _am_ going to beat your high score."

"Yeah, yeah. Heard it all before," Alexis said. "Good luck, Daddy." She kissed him on the cheek.

"Knock 'em dead, kiddo," Martha said.

"Well, technically, knocking the jury dead is frowned upon," Castle said.

Martha gave a half-laugh and shook her head, before shooing Castle out of the apartment.

* * *

Boring.

Boring. Boring. Boring.

He had forgotten just how boring trials were.

It was nothing like _Perry Mason_. _Perry Mason_ meaning, of course, not the classic stories by Erle Stanley Gardner, which he preferred, but the old television show with Raymond Burr that he had watched as a kid after school, sitting at home alone in the apartment while his mother was at one of her matinee performances. On the show, the trial was fast paced and exciting and Perry would always get the killer to confess on the stand. Of course, since he was a witness for the prosecution, and the star witness at that, that would mean he would have to be the one to break down under the withering cross examination and confess to the murder. Okay, maybe he was glad this wasn't like _Perry Mason_.

At least when he got sued, he got to sit inside and watch the trial. Now, he was relegated to a rather worn and dirty witness room that smelled vaguely of very old cigarette smoke and had 60's vintage furniture. He was really going to have to say something to the mayor about this.

He had given up on Bejewelled and all the other games on his iPod, and couldn't really get into any of the movies he had downloaded on it.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, there came a knock at the door.

The bailiff poked his head in. "Mister Castle? They're ready for you."

Castle stood, straightened his suit, ran his fingers through his hair, and followed the bailiff out and toward the courtroom. The bailiff standing outside the door to the courtroom opened it for them and Castle followed the first bailiff inside.

Beckett, Ryan and Esposito were all sitting together on one of the benches in the courtroom. Since their testimony was over, they were no longer subject to The Rule and could stay to listen to other witnesses. And they all were certainly not going to miss Castle's testimony, if only for the chance to rag on him about it afterwards.

Castle remembered what the ADA had said and didn't wave or otherwise acknowledge his friends on his way to the witness box.

He stepped into the box and started to sit down when the court reporter stepped in front of him. He stood back up. She raised her right hand and he did likewise.

"Do you solemnly swear, or affirm, that the testimony you are about to give in this cause is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

Castle nodded.

The judge, who Castle actually recognized from one of his book launch parties, said, "Mr. Castle, you have to answer out loud."

"Oh, um, yes. I swear."

"Please be seated," the judge said.

Castle sat down and Assistant District Attorney Miller stepped out from behind her counsel table.

"Would you state your name for the record?" she asked.

"Richard Castle."

"Where do you live, Mr. Castle?"

"In the greatest city on Earth," Castle replied. That got a chuckle from the gallery, including some of the jurors, but a stern look from the judge.

"That would be New York City, correct?"

"Yes," Castle replied.

"And what do you do for a living, Mr. Castle?"

"I'm a writer."

"What kind of books do you write Mr. Castle?"

"I'm a writer of wrongs."

Another chuckle from the gallery.

"By that, I mean that I write in the mystery genre. Specifically, crime novels."

"And how many novels have you written?"

"Twenty-seven best sellers. And counting."

"And as a consequence of writing all those novels, and the research that goes into them, you've become something of an expert into the criminal mind, have you not?"

The public defender, Barry White, leapt to his feet. "Objection, your Honor. Leading the witness."

Definitely not Atticus Finch, Castle thought. Not even Raymond Burr. White had a high, nasally voice that was a little grating on the nerves. If this was the best they could do...

"Objection sustained," the judge said.

"I'll rephrase," ADA Miller said. "Mister Castle, do you believe you have any kind of special insight in the criminal mind?"

Castle puffed his chest out a little. "I like to think so," he said. "I have interviewed dozens... Nay, hundreds of criminals, law enforcement officers, forensic scientists, and others to try and make sure my books are as realistic as possible."

"And using the expertise you have garnered as a result of this expertise, have you been assisting the New York Police Department in some of their cases?"

"I have been consulting with them for about a year and a half, yes."

"And have you been helpful to the police in clearing some of their cases?"

"We have a perfect record so far," Castle said proudly.

"And did you assist the police with the Byron Diess murder investigation?"

"Yes, I did."

"Could you tell us about it?"

White jumped to his feet again. "Objection, your Honor. Calls for a narrative answer."

"I'm willing to grant the prosecution a little leeway here, counsel," the judge said. "I am sure you will be quick to inform us if you think that Mr. Castle strays into any objectionable testimony."

White frowned, but sat down.

And so Castle began his tale. He told of the phone call from Beckett late one evening. Of going to the office building and looking over the crime scene. Of the long investigation and of narrowing their suspects down until Ryan and Esposito discovered the embezzlement by the defendant, Ralph Giardino. How they had gone to Giardino's apartment and the suspect had run out the back way, only to come upon Castle coming up the back stairs. (He left out the part about how Beckett had told him to wait in the car). Of how Giardino had taken him hostage, but Castle had smooth-talked him into confessing his guilt. About how Giardino had admitted that Byron Diess, the auditor, had discovered his embezzlement and confronted him, so Giardino had killed him.

Castle, of course, made Beckett sound like a cross between Robocop and Joan of Arc. Ryan and Esposito looked pretty proud of the way they had come off as well.

Master story-teller that he was, Castle had the entire courtroom in rapt attention. Even Giardino was sitting on the edge of his seat. Only the Public Defender, Barry White, was sitting with his arms folded across his chest, obviously unmoved. Surprisingly, he didn't say a word during Castle's narrative. He didn't lodge a single objection.

ADA Miller followed up with a few questions to clarify this point, or that, and then turned to the judge. "Pass the witness," she said.

Barry White got to his feet.

"Mr. Castle," he said in that obnoxious, whiney voice, "I'm Barry White, attorney for the accused, Ralph Giardino."

Castle nodded by way of acknowledgement.

"We haven't met before, have we Mr. Castle?"

Castle shook his head no.

"You have to answer audibly, Mr. Castle," the judge said.

"Sorry. No. No, we haven't met before."

"But you have met the Assistant District Attorney before, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"And you and she went over your testimony for today, didn't you?"

"Well, we discussed it."

"So you went over your testimony with the District Attorney, yes or no?"

"Yes."

"You're quite the storyteller, aren't you, Mr. Castle?"

"Well, yes," Castle agreed.

"That's your job, isn't it? Making up stories and making them believable?"

"Well, I'm a writer, yes."

"A writer of fiction."

"Yes."

"Who makes up facts and makes them sound believable."

The ADA jumped to her feet. "Objection, your honor!"

"Goes to credibility, your honor," White cut in quickly. "You granted the prosecution some leeway. I would like the same consideration, your honor."

"All right, but wrap up this line of questioning quickly," the judge cautioned.

"So you write fiction?" White asked.

"Yes," Castle agreed.

"Crime fiction."

"Yes."

"And since you have written..." White consulted his legal pad, "twenty-seven best sellers, you're pretty good at making up stories about crimes, aren't you?"

ADA Miller jumped to her feet again. "Objection!"

"Overruled," the judge said. "But remember my warning, Mr. White."

"Of course, your honor. I'll withdraw the question." He gave a condescending nod to the prosecutor.

"Now, you've been following Detective Katherine Beckett around for a little over a year and a half, correct?" White asked.

"About that, yes," Castle replied.

"Give or take," White said.

"Give or take," Castle agreed.

"In fact, you based your latest character, Nikki Heat, on Detective Beckett, isn't that true?"

"Yes, I did."

"And you are planning additional Nikki Heat books, are you not?"

"Yes. I have a deal for at least three more books," Castle said proudly.

"And since Nikki Heat is based on Detective Beckett, good publicity for Detective Beckett is good publicity for Nikki Heat, isn't it?"

ADA Miller leapt to her feet. "Your honor!"

"Goes to credibility and bias, your honor," White said. "He's the only witness to this alleged confession by my client. I'm allowed to test the motives behind his testimony and any bias he has in favor of the police or the prosecution."

The judge made a sour face but said, "Objection overruled."

"Since Detective Beckett is the lead investigator on this case, a conviction of my client would be good for your Nikki Heat novels, wouldn't it?" White asked.

"I don't know if I would go that far..." Castle equivocated.

"But it's common knowledge that Nikki Heat is based on Kate Beckett, isn't that right?"

Castle looked down. "Yes," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't hear that," White said.

"Yes," Castle said, louder.

"That was even the subject of an article in Cosmopolitan magazine, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Castle said. He fidgeted a little in his chair. He had practiced some cross-examination with the DA's office before his testimony, but it was nothing like this.

"So it only stands to reason that positive press for Detective Beckett would mean positive press for you and for Nikki Heat, doesn't it?"

"I suppose so," Castle admitted.

White leaned on the edge of the counsel table. "You and Detective Beckett have become friends, haven't you?" he asked.

Castle glanced over at Beckett. She wasn't meeting his gaze.

"You and Detective Beckett are friends, aren't you?" White repeated.

"I've made friends with several of the Detectives at the Twelfth Precinct," Castle said.

"But you specifically dedicated your last novel to 'the extraordinary KB' didn't you? Who is KB?"

"Kate Beckett," Castle admitted. "But I also dedicated it to all my friends at the Twelfth Precinct," he added quickly.

"But _specifically_ to Kate Beckett."

"Yes."

"Your muse."

Castle cringed. Beckett hated to be called his 'muse.' Had threatened him if he called her that, in fact. But he was under oath. "Yes," he agreed.

"Beckett has saved your life, hasn't she?"

"Yes, she has."

"And you, in fact, have saved hers."

"Yes, I guess so."

"You guess so, or you have?"

"I have."

"You would do anything for her, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Castle admitted in a small voice.

"Even lie for her."

Castle almost said 'yes' automatically, but saw the trap at the last moment. "I wouldn't commit perjury for her, no," he said defiantly.

"But you are in love with her, aren't you?"

A collective gasp filled the courtroom.

"Your Honor!" ADA Miller shouted, leaping to her feet.

"Goes to bias," White said in that incredibly whiney, irritating, nasally voice of his.

"He has already said he wouldn't perjure himself for her," Miller countered.

"But his feelings for the investigating officer could color his testimony," White said.

The judge looked apologetically at Castle and then at Beckett. "I have to allow the question," he said.

White took a step closer to Castle. "You're in love with Kate Beckett, aren't you?"

"Well, that's a hard..."

"Yes or no," White protested. "It's a yes or no question."

Castle looked pleadingly at the judge. The judge couldn't meet his gaze.

"Answer the question," the judge said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Castle looked at Beckett. She was looking at the floor. Ryan and Esposito were on the edge of their bench.

Castle took a deep breath and uttered the one word that could change everything.

THE END

Author's Note: _Seems I'm in a Castle mood, lately._

_Thanks to my wonderful editor, _**Poa**_,for proofreading this for me and giving me her comments. This time I was smart enough to send my story to her before I posted it._


	2. Chapter 2

DO YOU SOLEMNLY SWEAR…

Part the Second

Author's Note: _The central conceit of the first part of this story was that the reader would make up their own ending to the story. But based on the various reviews/messages I received (for which I thank you), I started thinking of how I would continue the story. So after much foot dragging on my part, here is another cruel chapter of our story…_

_

* * *

_

_White took a step closer to Castle. "You're in love with Kate Beckett, aren't you?"_

_"Well, that's a hard..."_

_"Yes or no," White protested. "It's a yes or no question."_

_Castle looked pleadingly at the judge. The judge couldn't meet his gaze._

_"Answer the question," the judge said, his voice barely above a whisper._

_Castle looked at Beckett. She was looking at the floor. Ryan and Esposito were on the edge of their bench._

_Castle took a deep breath and uttered the one word that could change everything._

"No."

There was a collective gasp from the courtroom. After the anxious expectation which had throttled all sound from the court except the voices of the public defender, the judge and Castle, the room exploded in noise. Ryan and Esposito half-rose from their places. The jurors whispered to one another. The spectators' voices rose to an angry buzz.

Castle cast a guilty glace at Beckett, whose gaze was riveted to the floor as if the dirty tile had hypnotized her.

Barry White, the defense attorney, stared at Castle with narrowed eyes. "Need I remind you, Mr. Castle, that you're under oath. Do you really mean to tell me…"

He was interrupted by the sharp rap of the judge's gavel. "Silence in the courtroom!" the judge barked. The noise level dropped only slightly, so the judge banged his gavel again. "Order in the courtroom!" he said, louder.

Slowly, the sounds died away.

Castle looked up at the judge, his eyes pleading. The judge was not looking at him, but rather out at the spectators. Castle followed his gaze and felt his chest constrict. Kate Beckett, without looking up, stood and edged her way past Ryan and Esposito, then hurried from the courtroom. Ryan started to follow, but Esposito grabbed his arm and pulled him back onto the bench.

Castle gripped the railing in front of the witness chair, his knuckles going white. Ryan closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, while Esposito turned and gave Castle a look he usually reserved for murder suspects and the stuff on the bottom of his shoe.

White cleared his throat and Castle looked at him with cold, narrowed eyes.

"Mister Castle," White said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Do you mean to tell me that…"

He was interrupted again by the rap of the judge's gavel. "We're going to take a ten minute recess," the judge said.

"All rise," the bailiff said, but the judge was already halfway off the bench and out the door to his chambers by the time he got out the second word. The other bailiff hurried over to usher the jury out of the jury box and back to the jury room.

Castle leapt from his seat and scrambled out of the witness box. The public defender moved a step to his left, as if to block his path, and Castle none-too-gently shouldered him out of the way. Assistant District Attorney Erin Miller reached out a hand as Castle hurried past, but Castle pulled his arm away and slapped open the gate on the 'bar', the railing separating the spectators from the attorneys' tables. Several of the spectators – the badges around their necks identifying them as reporters – reached out for Castle as he passed, but he shrugged each off in turn.

Then his arm was gripped by an iron hand. He jerked his head to the side to see who had the gall to grab him like that… and found him face to face with a cold-eyed Esposito. "Let her go," Esposito said.

Castle tried to pull his arm away, but Esposito's fingers dug harder into his arm. "Let her go," he said again.

Castle suddenly went limp. "You don't understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No," Esposito said. "No, I don't." Then he turned and walked out of the courtroom.

Castle stood there for a moment, staring at the closed doors. Then he turned with a start when he realized that Ryan was standing next to him.

"I didn't…" Castle said. "I couldn't…"

Ryan clapped a hand on Castle's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, just a little too hard to be friendly. "I think maybe you should avoid Beckett for awhile," he said. "In fact, maybe you should avoid the precinct for a bit."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and followed Esposito out the door.

Castle stood there, deflated, for a long moment, oblivious of everyone else in the courtroom. Then he clenched his hands into fists and turned back toward the front of the courtroom. His hot glare bored holes in the back of the public defender, who stood at his counsel table with his back to Castle.

Castle took a step forward, only to start in surprise as ADA Miller stepped in front of him. "Let's step outside, Rick," she said.

"That little…" Rick hissed.

"Outside," Miller said, more forcefully. She grabbed Castle by the arm and practically dragged him out of the courtroom.

* * *

Martha Rogers stood in the doorway of her son's office and waited. Castle was staring blankly at the screen of his laptop, just like he had been for the last three days. Martha shook her head and sighed. She hadn't seen him like this since Kyra Blaine had run off to Europe without him.

She waited a little longer, but he still sat, unmoving, the glow of the computer's screen illuminating his haggard face. Martha sighed, took a couple quiet steps back, and then strode into the office as if she had just breezed in the door.

"Congratulations, Richard," she said, holding up the front page of the _New York Ledger_'s Metro section with the headline 'Killer Account Guilty On All Counts.' "You won."

Castle looked up at her and blinked. There was a pause and Martha could almost see the wheels straining to turn in his head. "Won?" he asked, his voice hoarse from disuse. He blinked again, and stared at the paper, realization slowly dawning. He shook his head. "Won." he said. "So said King Pyrrhus."

Martha walked over and laid the newpaper on his desk. Stepping behind him, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Have you called her?" she asked.

Castle hung his head. "I can't," he said. "Not after what I put her through."

"Hey. Kiddo," she said, spinning his chair around so that he was facing her. "She deserves to know."

Castle shook his head. "She must hate me," he said.

"A little," Martha agreed. Castle looked up at her with a look that said, 'Thanks a lot.'

"But you have to remember," Martha said, continuing. "Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. The opposite of love isn't hate. It's indifference."

Castle reached up and laid his hand over his mother's. "How did you get to be so wise?" he asked.

"Years of hard living," she said. "That and a good memory for dialogue. That was the line from a play I did a couple years ago in summer stock."

Castle rolled his eyes.

"Call her," Martha said. "Or better yet. Go see her. Talk to her. She deserves to know."

Castle stood up and wrapped his mother in a hug. "Thank you, mother."

He released her and started toward the door.

"But take a shower first," Martha called after him. "You smell like three day old sweat socks."

Castle turned and gave her a lopsided grin. "And there's the Martha we know and love."

* * *

A slow drip, drip, drip fell from the brim of Castle's fedora and he shivered with a chill that his black trench coat failed to ward off. A cold drizzle had blanketed New York and Castle had been standing in the rain for nearly an hour, huddled in the shadows near the door to Beckett's building. "Doesn't anyone in her building ever go out?" he muttered.

A woman hurried past, practically dragging a bedraggled dog on a leash behind her. The dog looked up at Castle with pleading eyes and Castle nodded. "I know how you feel, buddy," he said softly.

Finally, a couple darted out of a cab and ran up the steps to Beckett's apartment building. Castle walked with over-emphasized nonchalance toward them, timing his gait carefully. The man opened the door and held it for the woman, who dashed inside. Castle quickened his pace. The man ducked through the door. Castle ran up the steps and caught the door just before it closed.

He slipped inside and stopped in the entryway, shaking the water from his hat and coat. He really needed to talk to Beckett about her living arrangements. If only she lived in a building with a doorman, he could have charmed his way in an hour ago.

The couple had stopped at the elevator and was eying him warily. Castle put on his most disarming smile and gave them a little wave. "Lovely weather we're having, huh?" he called.

The elevator dinged. The man shrugged and nodded, then herded the woman into the elevator. Castle waited until the doors closed before he let out his breath.

He stepped over to the elevators and stopped. He stared at the 'up' button for a long minute. He reached out to the button slowly, then dropped his hand to his side. He closed his eyes and silently counted to three, then opened them and quickly stabbed the button.

It seemed an eternity before the elevator doors finally opened. Castle started into the elevator, only to stop short as an obese man with greasy black hair started out. "Oh. Ah. Sorry," Castle said, dancing to the left and then the right to get out of the man's way, finally taking a few steps back when he realized that the man's girth required almost the entire doorway.

"Evening," Castle said with a nod and an apologetic smile as the man scowled and grunted past him. Castle turned to watch the man waddle away, started, and turned back just as the elevator doors closed.

"Great," Castle muttered, stabbing the 'up' button again.

The elevator doors opened almost immediately. Castle paused and took a deep breath. The doors started to close and he had to lunge forward and slap at them to make them open again.

He stepped into the elevator, sighed, and shook his head, then stared at the row of buttons. Suddenly, he couldn't remember which floor Beckett lived on. He rubbed a hand over his face. "Get a hold of yourself, Rick," he muttered.

He pulled out his cell phone, checked her address, and then pushed the button for the fifth floor. The elevator gave a groan and a lurch and then, with the mechanical equivalent of a wheeze, began to ascend.

Castle took a step back and watched the floor indicator flash from one, to two, to three, feeling all the while like a man walking the thirteen steps up to the gallows.

Finally the elevator lurched to a halt and doors slowly ground open.

Castle peeked his head out of the doors, and looked up and down the hallway, only to have the elevator doors slam into his shoulders. "Ow!" he called, and leapt out of the elevator as the doors slowly opened and then slammed shut behind him.

Castle glanced up to the heavens. "Okay, okay," he said. "I get the message."

He swallowed hard and started down the hallway toward Beckett's door.

He stopped in front of her door and took a deep breath. Then, after a long pause, took another. He balled his hand into a fist and ran his thumb over his closed fingers. Taking another deep breath, he raised his hand and paused. Closing his eyes tightly, he scrunched up his face and quickly rapped three times on the door.

The 'rap', 'rap,' 'rap' seemed to echo down the hall like gunshots. Castle's eyes went wide and he glanced quickly up and down the hallway, half expecting all the doors on the hall to come flying open.

There were several clicks from inside Beckett's apartment, the sound of deadbolts being thrown and the chain being latched. Castle would have run, but his legs seemed to have gone numb from the knees down.

The door opened slightly and Beckett's familiar brown eyes appeared above the door chain.

"Castle?" she asked, incredulously.

"Beckett," he said. "Um. Ah. Hi. Can I come in?"

There was a long pause. "It's really not a good…"

"Kate," Castle said. "Please."

There was another long pause and then Beckett closed the door. There was a rattle as she undid the chain and then she opened the door, but stepped into the opening, blocking his way. She didn't have on any makeup and she was dressed in sweatpants and a ragged New York Police Academy sweatshirt that drooped over one shoulder. Castle thought she looked beautiful.

"Castle," she said, her voice weary. "I appreciate your coming all the way over here…" She paused and looked him over, seeing that he was soaking wet. "… in the rain." Another pause. "But really. Everything's fine. I should have called… Before. But…"

"Beckett, please," Castle said, his voice a little stronger, a little less pleading. "It's important. Official police business."

"Official business?" Beckett said, raising one eyebrow.

Castle raised a hand. "I swear," he said.

Beckett frowned a little and then took a step back and to the side, allowing him entrance.

"Let me take your coat," she said. "You're soaking wet."

Castle shrugged off the coat and handed it and his hat to Beckett. She took them gingerly and stepped in to hang the coat over the curtain rod in her bathroom. She came out and motioned to the couch. "Have a seat," she said.

Castle took a seat on the couch and Beckett settled into an overstuffed chair across from him. She started to pull her knees up to her chest, stopped with a start, and then sat upright in the chair, her hands primly in her lap.

"So what can I do for you, Castle?" she asked.

"It's about my testimony at the Giardino trial," Castle said.

Beckett waved a hand at him. "No," she said quickly. "No, you don't have to explain."

"Kate," he said. "Please."

"No," she said again, not looking at him. "We appreciate your testimony. We couldn't have gotten the conviction without you. Your testimony was crucial in putting a murderer behind bars and I'm sorry I doubted your ability to give clear, concise and…" her voice caught a little, "truthful testimony in the case."

Castle reached over and grabbed her hand. Startled, she looked down at his hand and then up into his eyes. Those clear, blue eyes.

"Detective Beckett," Castle said softly, reaching out with his other hand and placing it gently upon hers. "I hereby surrender myself to your custody."

Beckett's eyes clouded over and she looked at him and gave a little shake of her head. "You… You what?"

"I told you this was an official visit," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up ever-so-slightly. "I have come to confess to a crime."

"And… And what crime is that?" Beckett asked, squeezing his hand.

Castle broke into a full smile and uttered the one word that could change everything.

"Perjury," he said.


End file.
